Pulling off Butterfly Wings
by Artistic Suicide
Summary: Reeve and Scarlet. Black and White. Makes gray, I think. What the hell. Just read it
1. Default Chapter

Pulling Off Butteryfly Wings

By

Larpskendya

Prologue

The moon shone brightly through her window as she stood on the balcony, her head tilted upwards, heart beating fast, lips pouting, kissing the wind. It danced around her, teasing her, a playmate, a soul mate. She allowed its soothing coolness to ease her headache which faded slowly like a bad dream. She shivered a little, enjoying the tingling feeling on her skin before she decided that she'd better go inside.

Her bedroom suited her. No. That was a lie. Her bedroom was what other people expected to suit her. A large bed with red silken sheets and dozens of pillows. The air carried a hint of expensive perfume. Her closet was an enormous affair, filled with shoes and dresses. Scarlet did what was expected of her. Nobody could say that she did not fulfill her requirements.

She inspected herself in her mirror which stretched from the ceiling to the floor. Tonight she had to go to another one of the president's "little" parties where she would be expected to flirt, primp and…do what was expected of her. She gazed at her dress. It was red. It would always be red. It wasn't her usual halter-neck-one-slit-going-up-the-side dress though. There was a big difference. This little beauty had _two _slits, one on each side of the dress, dancing up, up, up until it stopped at each hip. Thin, silken spaghetti straps hung limply off of each slim shoulder and the dress clung tightly to each supple curve, flowing but not puffing out. Oh yes. This number would certainly be turning a few heads, despite the fact that she was freezing and would be as uncomfortable as hell. She put on a pair of elegant, crimson shoes complete with stiletto heels and stood up, wincing as her feet filed a complaint to her brain. She hung a thin silver chain with a single diamond hanging on the end around her slender neck, absent-mindedly sprayed perfume in a few select places and then downed the three shot glasses that never left her dressing table. She then ran a brush through her newly washed, freshly dyed hair, gave herself a impish grin in the mirror, thus completing her mask and hurried out of her apartment.

Heads always turned when Scarlet entered a room. She assailed all senses, smiling ruthlessly at all the men, her sharp blue eyes analyzing every situation. She dominated the scene yet made everyone involved believe that _they _were actually the ones who were in control. Tonight was no exception. Scarlet smiled the smile of a saint, her eyes glinting like a devil's whilst she flitted about the room like a butterfly, dancing with her victims, captivating them and them pushing them away when she spotted a more suitable suitor.

She stalked through the dancers, secretly sneering at the women who started enviously after her. They stood out against the men, frosted peacocks laced with diamonds but _she _was dressed as a living flame. Men turned away from their fiancées to stare at her suggestively swaying hips but she sauntered past, oblivious to their presence. She went straight towards her goal.

"President Shinra," she smiled, holding out an elegant hand, painted crimson. He took it and kissed it whilst she disguised her disgust. Her hand withdrew and she resisted the urge to surreptitiously wipe it against her dress.

"Scarlet, so glad you could come. I was wondering if you've met my son, Rufus?" the president replied. Scarlet smiled mischievously at the vice-president who met her ice blue gaze unflinchingly.

"No, we have not. I believe you live in Junon," she inquired, giving him her hand as well. His lips brushed it briefly before he pulled back.

"Yes," he answered abruptly, too bored to bother with giving full answers. Scarlet knew how to deal with this.

"I wonder if you would care to dance."

Three hours later and Scarlet walked over to the bar, trying her best not to limp. She had danced non-stop, not only with the president's whelp but with countless others. She had enchanted them all. They could only watch as she spun and twirled gracefully into their arms before twisting away into another's embrace.

Now, her feet were throbbing, her headache had come back with a vengeance and she needed something to numb the pain. She sat down on a stool and attracted the bartender's eye instantly. He walked over.

"Something I can get you?" he asked. She smiled prettily.

"Give me something stiff." Her voice clipped. Sharp. Deadly.

He nodded and turned away before coming back to place the concoction in front of her. She took the ice cold glass and pressed it against her forehead. When that no longer helped her head she allowed the burning liquid to ripple down her throat hoping that it would reach her feet. Only once she had finished two-thirds of the glass did she look up to see who was sitting next to her.

He looked just like every other man in the room, wearing a dry-cleaned tuxedo and a bored expression. His hair, though he tried so hard to tame it back was slightly ruffled and his dark eyes looked sadly into the distance. She smiled at him, white teeth flashing.

"Hello Reeve."

He turned around and gave her a fleeting smile in return although she couldn't be sure whether it truly _was _a smile or a grimace. It had been so quick that now she wasn't even sure if it had ever been there. He turned away from her to order a glass of water. She tried to attract his attention again.

"Only water, Reeve? Don't you want something a little stronger?" she asked, her voice slightly husky. He frowned slightly and shook his head, eyeing her drink with distaste.

"If I got drunk we'd soon be seeing some very interesting buildings around Midgar. No, I'll stick to water."

Scarlet placed her hand over his, her smile still intact. "But this is a _party_, Reeve. Surely you need to have a little fun once in a while?"

Reeve sighed and pulled his hand away. "No. I still have a lot of work to do. I intend to go back to my office after the president has finished his speech."

As if on cue, the music stopped and the president stood up to give his seemingly heartfelt speech, telling them what good workers they were, what valuable assets to the company they must surely be, what good they were doing for the people of Midgar. Scarlet tried to keep the look of disgust from her pretty face and she watched Reeve stifle a yawn. Finally, the president stepped down and the music started up again. Reeve drained the last of his water and stood up to go. Scarlet was a trifle stunned. Here was a perfectly ordinary, red-blooded male who was _ignoring _her! Surely the apocalypse was nigh!

"Reeve! Don't go!" she said, her voice sultry. He stopped to look at her and she smiled.

"Is it important, Scarlet? I have a lot of work to do," he said, as if talking to an immature child. Her smile nearly faded but with remarkable self-control, she pinned it to her face like a butterfly.

_Ah, what the hell_, she though. She was buzzed, she was alone, he was not unattractive and she never turned down a challenge. She too stood up.

"Would you please dance with me?" she asked him, eyes pleading, mouth pouting. She could see his resolve weakening.

"Well, I don't have much time…"

_Yes…_

"Please? It won't take long," she murmured and he held out a hand which she took lightly in her own.

They stood on the dance floor, her eagerly, him reluctantly. The next song started and she was in his arms, surprised at how firm they felt. He was a competent dancer, she noted, but he was mechanical. It was if he was merely going through the motions. Her feet forgotten, she threw herself into the music, not noticing the envious heads that turned their way, not noticing one of the violinists falter as he too, looked upon her graceful maneuvers. She was only aware of Reeve's face and Reeve's reactions. He anticipated her every move, bringing her close, but not too close, or sending her twirling into the void before bringing her back. Her pulse raced madly as the music stopped, disappointment flooding her body. Still, maybe she had entranced him enough for one more dance, maybe a little tête-à-tête…

"Now I really have to go," said Reeve. She recoiled a little but held out a hand.

_At least I'll get a kiss_, she thought desperately. He took her hand and shook it hurriedly before walking out, leaving her shattered on the dance floor. She turned around. There were plenty of men still needing her attention but she felt a little drained.

"Perhaps I should get some rest," she thought, placing a hand to her now aching head and walking from the room.

Reeve walked quickly to his office, thankful to get away from Scarlet the Harlot. She was so overpowering, so domineering. Not that he didn't like that in a woman but he didn't like _her _so that only made the matter worse. He sometimes wondered just exactly how she had gotten to the top of the Weapon Development Department. She looked like she had never broken a single crimson nail in her entire life. Of course, appearances could be deceiving but…

He reached his office and sat down, staring bleakly at the monstrous heaps of paperwork. If one of them were to collapse he would surely be smothered. He could just see the headlines: SECRETARY OF URBAN DEVELOPMENT KILLED IN FREAK PAPERWORK ACCIDENT. ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT? Maybe the Higher-Ups were trying to kill him after all…

Reeve laughed and sat down, preparing himself for a long night's work. Midgar depended on him. Without those reactors in working condition the city would have no power. Still, as he started to type furiously, he could help but wish that he had stayed for one last dance…

_Hope that this was okay. I'm not sure how good I'll be at writing this sort of fic but I'll give it a try. I'd appreciate any feedback, suggestions and so on so PLEASE review! Oh, this takes place a while before AVALANCHE blows up the reactor. I'll try to post again soon. Cheers!_


	2. Chapter One

Pulling off Butterfly Wings

By

Larpskendya

_Yay! New chapter! Oh, I forgot to say that FFVII doesn't belong to me so all of those lawyers – get off my back already! I hope that this is okay but please review so that I know. Any suggestions will be welcome._

Chapter One

It was six o clock in the morning when she walked into his office. His hair was flluffed up in all directions and his head was lying on his desk, his paperwork serving as a cushion. She couldn't be certain as to whether he was drooling. Scarlet smiled. He looked so vulnerable when he was asleep although, mind you, he looked a little like a timid rabbit even when he was awake but she knew that if you threatened his precious city, the rabbit in him would turn out to be a fox.

Scarlet walked quietly over to him, her painful, high-heeled shoes making no sound and she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He moaned and shifted slightly, finally opening his eyes. He saw someone's cleavage staring him full in the face, blushed and looked upwards, nearly falling out of his seat when he saw Scarlet's face.

"Scarlet!" he cried, standing up quickly, his chair falling against his soft carpeted floor. He noticed his wrinkled suit and the eleven polystyrene cups of coffee, now empy, littering his desk. He yawned.

"Good morning, Reeve," said Scarlet, smiling amusedly as he brushed himself off. He ran a hand through his messy hair.

"I, uh, I-I-I must have fallen asleep," he muttered distractedly, gathering the cups and throwing them away. Scarlet's grin widened when she saw the crease marks on his face and his blurred, bloodshot eyes. She sat down on his desk, elegantly crossing her legs.

"Perhaps you should go home," she said smoothly. "I can drive you there."

He shook his head quickly. "No, no I'll be fine. I'd better start working," he muttered. Scarlet frowned in concern but it quickly vanished when she realized that she was not supposed to show concern. A mewling sound distracted her and she looked around to see a cat walking towards her, black except for its face which wore a white mask. It looked decidedly intelligent as it gazed at her with slate green eyes, walking towards her with its usual predatory stalk.

"And who might _you _be?" she asked, watching it approach her feet and rub affectionately against her legs, purring deeply.

"Um…Cait…Cait Sith. My uh…cat…" murmured Reeve, watching the cat with astonishment and also being distinctly aware that keeping pets in the office was a major No No. "He's never been so affectionate before, though. He doesn't like people all that much," he continued, a little awed. Still, he supposed, they probably had a lot in common. Scarlet scratched the cat's head, behind its ears, making it purr louder and she smiled absent-mindedly.

"Why is it here?" she asked.

"Well, I end up spending a lot of time here and I can't really leave it at home. Besides, I need the company."

"If it's _company _you want…" purred Scarlet, her grin growing even wider as she noticed his blush.

"I uh…I'd better get started on my-" he waved his hand towards the paperwork mountains. Scarlet felt rather sorry for him. Still, it was his own fault for being so reliable. The more crap you take, the more gets piled on. Nevertheless, in a way she admired him. This man's work was his life and he cared deeply for the citizens of Midgar.

"Why don't you come and join me for breakfast?" she asked. He looked up, startled.

"I don't know. I have a lot of work," he said, the usual broken-record-excuse coming out quickly.

"But you cannot work on an empty stomach…"

"-I'll get some coffee!"

"That doesn't seem to have helped so far," Scarlet observed and he sighed in resignation.

"Okay, okay. You win. Just let me get dressed."

"What?" asked Scarlet, confused. She watched as Reeve pulled a spare suit out of his bottom desk drawer complete with socks and – he blushed when she noticed – underwear. _Polka dot _underwear. His mother had bought it for him, he thought defensively. _This _time it wasn't his fault.

"I often fall asleep round about two in the morning," he explained, seeing her confused expression. She sighed in exasperation.

"Reeve, you should be home at nine at the very latest. You don't get paid overtime," she said. He nodded.

"I know but there's always so much – anyway, I'll get changed now."

"Okay," said Scarlet. There was a long pause and an awkward silence, well, at least there was for Reeve. He cleared his throat.

"Um…Scarlet?"

"Yes?"

"I really need to get changed."

"Sure."

"Alone."

"Ah, right," said Scarlet, smiling evilly as she left the room.

He joined her in five minutes and she lead him to her car, a silver, top of the range convertible. Reeve had something similar himself. Devoted employees were richly rewarded. Not that he thought that _she _was devoted. Just beautiful. Well,_ other _people considered her beautiful. Not him. _Definitely _not him. Uh oh. Maybe it was her perfume that was affecting his brain. She certainly wore a lot of it, he mused.

Scarlet climbed into the driver's seat and pushed a button, making the roof of the car slide down. She climbed behind the steering wheel and started the car. It purred to life and Scarlet slammed her foot on the accelerator. Reeve was shoved against the cool hard leather seats as the car flew through the carport and onto the road.

"Scarlet!" Reeve yelled, certain that his lips were probably peeling back.

"Mmhmm?" Scarlet murmured distractedly.

"I believe that there is such a creature as a speed limit!" he cried. Scarlet looked at him in a puzzled manner before laughing softly.

"Come on Reeve. Enjoy the wind in your hair. It'll wake you up some. Don't you love the freedom that speed gives you?"

Reeve glanced at his colleague. Her blonde hair streamed behind her, her face was regal, held high and her crimson lips wore a savage smile of enjoyment. Had she been sitting on a horse, Reeve thought that Scarlet would have made a pretty decent Valkyrie. Once reassured that Scarlet wouldn't crash into the nearest wall, Reeve allowed himself to relax about three hairs.

Twenty-five minutes later and they walked into the restaurant. Scarlet's favourite of course.

"What's this place called again?" Reeve asked as she imperiously demanded a table for two.

"La Pomme de Terre," she said, a humorously knowing glint to her oceanic eyes. He knew instantly what she was laughing at.

"Apple of the Earth. Potato?" he asked, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from turning up slightly. She nodded, inwardly delighted that her prey had realized what she had, many years ago. So many of the men that she had brought here hadn't. Still, it wasn't as if she slept with them because of their brains.

"I suppose that it's because all they wanted was a fancy name. It doesn't matter what it really means. Only what it appears to be. Besides, so many people never really find out," she answered, smiling suggestively. Although Reeve thought that Scarlet could probably pick her _nose _suggestively. It was just how she was. A slut.

_Is she?_

They were shown to their seats and Reeve admired the décor. The walls were of dark wood, as was the floor, and a clear vase filled with red roses and a confused goldfish adorned every round wooded table. The seats were wooden too, with cream silk cushions placed there for the customer's sensitive rear. Penguin-like waiters swarmed throughout the restaurant, taking orders. Reeve gazed quizzically at Scarlet, who appeared to be absorbed in watching the goldfish that was repeatedly bumping into the glass. She did not appear troubled by this obvious cruelty. Merely curious and analytical, a cat observing it's prey.

"All this for breakfast?" he asked. She shrugged elegantly (and _yes_, suggestively).

"I felt as if I owed you for that dance you gave me last night. After all, you were so busy and went to the trouble of making a woman like me happy," purred Scarlet, leaning forwards a little and noticing that Reeve inched back as far as he could against the back of his chair. Frowning slightly, she leaned back and watched him relax a little. Hmm…_definitely _a challenge.

"It was no trouble," muttered Reeve, signaling to a waiter. The man arrived and Reeve allowed Scarlet to order for him, trusting her taste. Still, two fillet steaks, the house wine and Italian kisses were a little _too _much for breakfast, he thought, infinitely preferring fries to fillets and coffee to wine. Their drinks were brought and Reeve looked suspiciously at the wine before taking a sip. Scarlet laughed.

"Relax, Reeve. It's only wine. You can't _possibly _desire water, can you?" she asked, taking a lady-like sip herself. "Besides, it's not as if I'm trying to get you drunk." She wondered what Reeve drunk would be like. He might act like a human being for one thing.

_No, that would be _too _unsubtle_, thought Reeve, _although not too far from her usual behavior. Still, at least she couldn't _possibly _have spiked the drinks…could she?_

She may, he mused, have a standing arrangement with the staff.

There was an awkward silence. They were, thought Reeve, too frequent when he was around her. Still, she seemed relaxed as she waited for her drink, a crimson fingernail inattentively tapping the glass, causing the goldfish to race around in a dizzy confusion of bubbles. He tried to drink as little as possible without seeming impolite. Their food arrived and eased the awkwardness a little because both of them had to eat. She was a very dainty eater too, Reeve noticed. Although it was probably because of all the experience she must have had, dragging suitors here over the years. She probably ate her men very delicately too, sharp white teeth nibbling prettily. Her victims didn't seem to mind though.

Unfortunately, there is only so long that a man can chew and eventually the torturous meal was over and the pudding arrived. Reeve looked up into her dangerously blue eyes and frantically tried to think of something to say.

"So…how's your work going, Scarlet?" he asked, almost cringing at the feeble line of conversation that he had chosen. Her eyes widened, if only for a second, as if she were surprised at the question.

_She was probably expecting me to ask what kinds of unconventional positions she preferred, _he thought sarcastically. She smiled at him though and licked her lips before replying.

"Well, your department seems to be stealing all of the funds that we so desperately need," she said, her hand inching closer to his unsuspecting one, "but we're doing well. Last night the President very kindly agreed to let us research Huge Materia. I'm interested in the energy sources that we could get from such powerful items. I'm sure that your department might benefit from such research too."

Reeve was so astonished by her intelligent observation that he hardly noticed her clawed hand resting atop his. "How so?" he asked, his free hand absently holding an Italian kiss halfway to his mouth. Scarlet smiled and inclined her head towards the morsel which was starting to melt, vanilla ice cream dripping steadily onto the wooden table.

_His blush is just too cute, _she thought, watching him drop the kiss and mop up the table with both a cloth and an embarrassed expression. He pulled his arm away and she found herself missing the dry coolness of his hand. He bit his lip nervously and watched her, waiting for her answer so that he might forget his silent, agonizing humiliation.

"Well, you _are _in charge of the reactors, aren't you?" she asked and continued when he nodded. "I know how many 'Save the Planet' leaflets you must be getting from various environmental groups. I have absolute faith that if we could find this Huge Materia, you wouldn't be draining the planet as much as you are by using Mako. It would keep the people happy, at any rate. Your expenses would also go down."

"The Huge Materia would dry out, though, wouldn't it? We'd just end up using raw energy once more," answered Reeve, frowning slightly as he pondered her statement. "And there isn't much Huge Materia in existence. There couldn't possibly be enough for all the reactors."

"That last point is true but materia doesn't dry out, does it? I don't think you'd have a problem using Huge Materia. It's true that we'd have to fight over the pieces that we did find though, and you shouldn't expect to win _that _particular battle."

"All's fair in love and war, huh?" laughed Reeve and then instantly regretted letting those hateful words pass his treacherous lips. Scarlet smiled however, icicle eyes shining, caught up in the hunt.

"Exactly," she answered, delighted with his slip. "I wonder which you prefer."

"I don't know if I'm partial to either," Reeve joked, a wry smile on his face.

"No steady relationships?" Scarlet's gaze was keen. Reeve grinned.

_He really is quite handsome when he smiles_

"Only with my computer and my cat, I'm afraid. I have no strings of lovers to pine for me. _You _on the other hand…" he left the sentence hanging and his words did not cause offense because Scarlet knew them to be true. She smiled, taking it as a compliment and silently laughing because she knew that many a secretary or young programmer had been passionately, yet secretly in love with the Secretary of Urban Developments. His quiet, indifferent air made him quite the mystery man to some. She wondered if he knew this but decided that he probably didn't. When it came to other people he had the social skills of a blocked nostril.

"You've never loved?" she asked, curious.

"A few times although I think that I was more in love with the idea of _being _in love. What I'd like to know is, have you?" His words were meant as a jest but he could see that Scarlet was stunned. She hid it well but he noticed her eyes grow cold and her face become stony.

She could feel her fist clenching, not because she was angry with Reeve but because every time she remembered that…that _asshole_, that Prince Fucking Charming that had rode up in his silver convertible and had taught her how to do her tricks like a good little bitch she felt murderous thoughts enter her head, her jaw clench and her fists itch. He who had stolen what couldn't really be returned. Her innocence. She would never forgive him.

"Once," she answered, after the silence had become to long. "Just once." She tried to calm herself but whenever she remembered she couldn't stop her furious thoughts. She checked her watch and smiled at Reeve, who was still gazing at her with his silent, calculating look.

"Is anything the matter?" asked Reeve, not really caring but slightly curious all the same. She shook her head.

"No, but I'm afraid that I'll have to cut this breakfast short. I have a meeting to attend. I'll instruct the waiter to put it on my tab. Thank you, Reeve, this was lovely. Till next time," she said hurriedly before walking out of the restaurant, hips swaying enticingly.

Reeve sat at his table, a slight frown of confusion connecting his two eyebrows before realization dawned.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, standing up so quickly that he knocked his chair over. Blushing furiously, he set it right again and then dashed from the room as well, running outside only to see Scarlet's car disappearing round the corner. He sighed and tugged at his scalp as he pulled at his hair in mild frustration.

"I guess I'll be walking, then," he muttered to himself before starting the long walk back.

Scarlet arrived at the office, thoughts still pounding in her head when she remembered that she should have given Reeve a lift. She swore in irritation and then thought no more of it. He could walk. It wasn't _too _far. She wished that he hadn't asked her that question. She had been enjoying their "date". She smiled, tapping her chin with a blood-red nail. It had gone well. He had seemed to have warmed up a little.

_Have you ever been in love?_

What a stupid question to ask. It was a question that was just _waiting _to turn around and kick her in the ass. Yes, she _had_ loved, if only for a while. After that she had discovered how she had been used and that a fist in her face didn't mean that he loved her back or that sleeping with three other women besides her wasn't love. No, at the tender age of fourteen, Scarlet had learned to tell the difference between love and lust.

She had found out which was the better choice as well. Maybe people called her a slut behind and to her face but at least she had gotten somewhere. Love had only held her down. Besides, who was going to promote an ordinary woman? She had spent two years in a weapon shop and a further seven years training in Weapon Development. Now, at twenty-seven years old, she was more successful than women twice her age. She had more money than she could possible spend and she lived in the lap of luxury, all because she sacrificed a few nights per week to reverting to her fourteen year-old self who had learnt that it was a man's world and doing what was required. Maybe it was sexist. Maybe it was unfair and maybe she was a whore. She didn't care. She had climbed the ladder of success, breaking more than a nail on the way.

She had broken bones.

She had a broken heart.

Rufus came towards her just as she entered her corridor. She was sure to smile at him.

"Why, Mr. Vice President, I didn't know you were still here," she said, shifting her weight to one hip, allowing the slit in one side to fall open a little, revealing the barest glimpse of a thigh.

"Well, I decided to spend a week or so in order to familiarize myself with the building since I may be working here quite a lot in the near future. By the way, I was wondering if you'd like to…go through a few of those requests that you filed for the Huge Materia? Shall we say…tonight?"

"Of course," smiled Scarlet, her blue eyes as hard as diamonds. "Your place or mine?"

_AN: Hi. Well, here's chapter one, I hope it was enjoyable, especially since it took quite some time to write. It's quite hard to keep Reeve near her, he keeps trying to escape . I know that Scarlet seems quite slutty at the moment but hopefully she'll improve under Reeve's influence. Press the little magic button beneath and your heart's desire will be granted! Well…mine will at any rate _


	3. Chapter Two

Pulling off Butterfly Wings

By

Artistic Suicide

Chapter Two

Death visited the city in the guise of blinding white snow. Reeve shivered as he opened his eyes, feeling Cait Sith purr as he shifted. Noticing that the fire in the grate had gone out, he pulled on a pair of slippers before dragging himself to the bathroom and stripping as quickly as he good so that he might forget the cold for a little while as he showered. Routines were comforting. Wincing as the cold water hit him, before the boiler spluttered into life, he allowed himself to rest his damp forehead against the wall of the shower, the shock of the cold water leaving a chill in him that could never be removed, no matter how much heat was applied later on.

_Teeth chattering in the cold, voices in the darkness – O'Goddon'tletthemfindme – lights growing brighter – _

Gasping as a chill struck him, he increased the amount of hot water, his hands shaking.

"It's _over_!" he whispered savagely, his fist thumping against the wall, even though he knew that it would _never _be over. They'd never leave him. Hot water continued to beat against his skin as he turned his back to the spray, one hand grabbing for the soap. Some people found baths reviving as their souls were cleansed under the hot water. At best, Reeve could only feel water. At worst, he could feel the rot; smell the stench of decaying flesh and his own blood. He could only feel the numbing fear young children should never experience, far worse than monsters under the bed or the bogey man in the closet.

Washing done, he crawled out of the shower feeling more exhausted than before as he shivered once more in the morning chill. Drying himself quickly, he put on his suit, straightened his tie and called Cait Sith, who walked casually up to him, a reproachful expression on it's intelligent face.

"Yes, yes. I know it's cold. Look, you can sit in my pocket, okay?" he asked, kneeling for it. Tilting its head as you to say "Oh yeah?" it lunged at his throat, nuzzling the thick scarf that had been draped there. Reeve laughed and allowed the diminutive creature to lie there, wrapped up tightly in the woolen garment. He ignored the elevator, jogged downstairs and exited the building.

The streets were frozen and he rolled his eyes in irritation as he felt his damp hair freezing to his forehead. Taking his usual route, he stopped at a takeaway shop, ordered his usual chicken curry and carried on to the Shinra Headquarters which was conveniently near by. Cait Sith mewed impatiently as it smelled the chicken but refused to leave its comfortable perch on his shoulders.

The secretary greeted him as he entered and he walked on, oblivious to the fact that her eyes followed him until he was out of sight. He finally entered his office and sighed in relief as the warm air enveloped him. Heaters _were _civilization! He and his companion sat as his desk as he opened the polystyrene container and fed Cait the chicken as he picked at the rice. He smiled slightly as a sense of peace came to him. Maybe it was sitting with a companion, maybe it was the food, but at last he good feel the cold diminish a little in his cozy office.

Scarlet's arm flung out to the opposite side of the bed, feeling only the coldness of the sheets. She hated this habit and had tried, many times, to rid herself of it but no matter what she did she'd always wake up with the expectation that someone, _anyone_, would be there. There never was. Either men would come to her, engage in the usual night-time activity and then leave. Either that or she would go to them, such as last night and then later they would insist that she leave, because they did not want their wives to find her or because they could not stand to look upon her and be reminded of their weaknesses, she could not tell. All that she knew was that death, taxes and waking up to an empty bed were the only certainties in her life. Maybe it was better than finding someone. Better than finding _him_.

_Waking up and looking at his sleeping face, trying to determine his mood. Would he make her coffee and take her out for breakfast or would he beat her and accuse her of cheating on him, even though she _knew _that he had been with Alyssa the previous night. Would he have a hangover? Would he hold her? Would he push her away? Looking at his face, vulnerable in sleep, she could never be certain. He murmured and opened his eyes and then, with a pang of fear and dread, she knew. _

Maybe it was better to be alone.

She leapt out of the sheets and, wrapping them loosely around her, went to stand on the balcony, relishing the cold. She stared absently on the frost on the glass doors and spent as much time as she could feeling the chill surround her, making her numb. Maybe someday she would be. Sighing, she walked back into her room and into the shower. It was going to be a crappy day.

_What a crappy day_, thought Reeve as he tried to make his way through the paperwork. The rumors about the resistance faction had finally become a fact and news reports about the destroyed reactor were repeated over and over on the news. President Shinra was furious, Heidegger was unapproachable in his wrath and Reeve was getting the worst of it. After all, the reactors were _his _responsibility.

"Mr. Reeve, sir?" his secretary cautiously opened the door and looked in, her pretty face set in a smile that can only come with blissful ignorance. He looked at her absent-mindedly, his fingers still typing on a laptop half-buried in papers.

"Yes, Genevieve?"

"Mr. Heidegger would like a word with you in his office," she said, biting her pink, glossy lip. "I don't mean to upset you, but he does not look happy, sir."

"That," said Reeve, laughing a little, despite his anxiety, "goes without saying in the current circumstances. I shall be with him directly."

"Miss Scarlet would also like to see you, sir," the secretary continued, giving him an ambiguous smile. Reeve sighed and let his head fall to his hands.

"Will I ever get some peace? Oh well. Thank you, Genevieve." He looked at his watch. "It's six oh clock, Genevieve. You should start getting home," he said, his voice bored. She nodded her head and left to go pack up her things.

Reeve stood up and walked briskly through the building, not wanting to annoy Heidegger even more. He and Reeve had issues that would never be resolved and Reeve avoided him like the plague, if he could.

He knocked and then entered Heidegger's office. Unlike Reeve's it had very little paperwork. This might have made Reeve feel inferior but he had recently discovered that Heidegger merely handed the work to the people under him. Reeve sometimes wished that he could do that but knew that he could not afford to have any errors in his blueprints and calculations.

"Evening, Heidegger. What do you need from me?" he asked coldly.

"What I need," snapped Heidegger, his face red, his breathing heavy, "is to know what the _fuck _happened in the reactor! It's _your _responsibility!"

"Actually," said Reeve apathetically, "Security is _your _responsibility. The reactors were in perfect condition. What was wrong, was that they were very poorly guarded. I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to place the blame on me."

For such a heavy man, Heidegger moved quickly. In a split second, Reeve was lying crumpled on the floor, his lip bleeding heavily, his teeth stained crimson with his own blood. He spat and stood up slowly, wiping his jaw.

"Don't think," snarled Reeve, his voice cool but laced with menace, "that you can do that to me. I'm not scared of you anymore, Heidegger. Things have changed and if you _ever _touch me again, you will wish that you were in _hell _because even that would be better compared to what I will do to you. Are we clear or do I need to use smaller words?"

Heidegger growled and moved towards the smaller man but Reeve was ready and his arm moved at a dizzying speed, ramming Heidegger in the solar plexus whilst his knee slammed into Heidegger's gut. Reeve left the man choking on his own vomit and made his way to Scarlet's office.

_I'm not scared of you anymore, Heidegger...times really _have _changed. I'm not a little boy anymore. _

He could hear her before he entered the room, typing rapidly and muttering under her breath. He walked in, unnoticed and almost smiled at the sight. She was slouched in her desk, her hair haphazard due to running her fingers through it out of frustration. Her make-up had disappeared and her high heels had been kicked halfway across the room. She was sitting cross-legged in her chair, one hand supporting her head, the other typing. And, horror upon horrors, she was wearing _glasses_! He could never, in his wildest dreams, have imagined her with glasses but truth be told, they didn't look half bad. Plain glasses with silver rims, they gave her an intelligent, professional air that her stiletto heels and crimson nails never could. In that moment, he could almost see her as a human being.

She looked up, startled, when he said her name and then gave him a tired smile which _then _turned into an incredulous frown when she potted his split lip.

"What the _hell _happened to you?" she asked, hastily crossing her legs and looking for her shoes before she saw them sitting in the corner of her office.

"Office accident," said Reeve, which he felt was pretty much the truth. She nodded absent mindedly before remembering why she'd called him.

"Oh, yes. I'd like to see the security camera tape if you have it and I need to know how much the damage has cost us, the death toll and I'd like blueprints of the other remaining reactors as soon as possible, please," she told him, her voice not its usual sultry purr, but the sharp, strained voice of an overworked employee. She ran her hand through her hair once more. "It has _not _been a good day," she murmured and was surprised when he chuckled.

"You can say that again," he answered and then, as if some cruel deity wished to ruin him utterly – "Would you like to grab a coffee?"

She started, and gave him a look of pure, unadulterated disbelief. "Looking like _this_?" she asked, gesturing towards her face. Reeve smiled like a madman.

"Where's we're going, it doesn't really matter," he said. Her eyes narrowed slightly and then she nodded, loosening her hair before tying it back in an ordinary ponytail and removing her glasses. She looked about four years younger.

"Well, since I don't have a spare outfit to change into," she said, giving him an impish grin, "I'm ready when you are."

This time they took Reeve's car because he still didn't think that he could trust her to drive in the dark. In fact, this choice seemed to ease the awkward silences a little, although the conversation was not much of an improvement.

"Reeve! You drive like an old woman! Give the accelerator a little nudge, can't you?"

"I'm driving at the correct speed limit, Scarlet!"

"Come one! All the other cars passes you three years ago! Where did you learn to drive? Did your eighty-year old _grandma _teach you?"

"Just because _you _like breaking the rules of the road into tiny little pieces-"

Fortunately they arrived at the coffee house before Reeve's sanity shattered. Scarlet looked at the name of the place skeptically.

"Joe's Coffee Shoppe," she drawled. "You sure?"

"It's a very good place," argued Reeve and the two of them stepped inside.

It was warm inside, with cozy booths and cheerful lighting. Many other couples were there and at the back of the quaint little shop a woman was holding a poetry reading although the darkly dressed Goths that surrounded her didn't fit in very well with their surroundings.

The two co-workers sat down and the owner came to take their order.

"One cappuccino and one hazel nut coffee please, Hank" Reeve said and the man grinned and walked off.

"Hank?" asked Scarlet. "Shouldn't it be Joe?"

"His father," explained Reeve. "Joe died seven months ago."

Scarlet nodded and Reeve noticed that no sadness was shown, no sympathy for Hank. Just acceptance of the facts. Still, wasn't he like that too? The deaths that had occurred after the reactor's explosion were terrible indeed but did he actually grieve for the hundred – thousands? – that had died? All he did was make sure that the plans for a new reactor were ready and start to calculate how much it would be to rebuild the section of the city that was destroyed. It was, after all, his job. Heidegger didn't waste time mourning for the dead. He worked out how to capture the resistance. Scarlet wanted to know how to improve the defenses and Hojo…Hojo was too absorbed in pulling apart the fabric of the Universe to bother about a little explosion. They were all just machines, in the end, he supposed. Creations that could no longer feel.

Their drinks were placed in front of them and for a while they sat in silence, the steam from his cappuccino caressing Reeve's cheeks. Eventually he looked up and asked the first thing that came into his mind.

"Is your name _really _Scarlet?" he asked. She laughed, despite her confusion.

"Is your name really Reeve?" she asked. He grinned.

"Actually, it is. I know that that might be hard to accept but I don't use pseudonyms."

"Okay, but is Reeve your _first _or _last _name? I just can tell!" she continued, relishing the fact that she'd _finally _gotten him to loosen up a little. It was strange, she thought, that flirtation would not seduce him, but a sense of humor and merely treating him as an equal could cause him to relax.

"It's a secret. I'll only tell you if you tell me your real name," Reeve answered. She pretended to think, tapping a nail against her chin.

"I'll tell you my first name if you tell me yours," she replied. Reeve grinned and took another sip of coffee, surprised that he was enjoying himself, surprised that he was even _here _with _her_, drinking coffee and talking as if they had known each other for a long time. Which they had, he realized. He'd known her for four years! How old was she anyway?

"Okay," he said, "but you go first."

"Fine," she sighed in mock exasperation. "Scarlet is a false name. My real name…is Vivienne."

Reeve nodded. "Vivienne. That's a lovely name. Why did you change it?"

"Uh uh. You now. What's your first name?"

"Ok, I'll tell you, but you have to understand that this is hard for me," answered Reeve and she nodded in understanding.

"My name…is…Reeve," he said before she shrieked and kicked him viciously under the table. He laughed and accidentally spluttered into his coffee.

"Ok, ok," he laughed again. "My surname is Mantegna, happy?"

"No," she pouted. "Answer this then: how old are you?"

"Twenty-eight," he answered. "What about you?"

"Ugh, I'm twenty seven. I can't believe I'm younger than you! You look so young, Reeve!"

"Compliment or insult?"

"Insult, you creep! You are definitely paying for these drinks after what you did!"

Eventually they finished their coffee; Reeve paid for them (naturally) and drove Scarlet back to the Headquarters. He also got out to fetch his cat but turned around in surprise when Cait Sith mewled in the backseat.

"Nothing escapes you does it?" he asked in mock exasperation. He turned to Scarlet.

"Thank you…Vivienne, I had fun."

"So did I, Reeve. Could we…maybe do it again sometime?"

"Okay," answered Reeve. "That would be nice."

"Right."

"Okay."

"Goodnight Reeve," said Scarlet and leaned towards him. For a minute Reeve thought that she might try to kiss him, and was ready to repel her, when she took his hand and gently shook it. He turned to go.

"Oh, and Reeve?"

He turned around. "Yes?"

Her eyes were cold and haunted as she faced him. "Don't call me Vivienne. She died a long time ago." Without waiting for a reply, she walked back into the office.

_AN: Well, I hope that this was okay. Experiencing some writer's block so I hope that the characters weren't too OOC. Still, they have to looses up _sometime _right? Well, please review…I'll give you a muffin, I swear! _


	4. Chapter Three

Pulling off Butterfly Wings

By

Artistic Suicide

_AN: Yeah yeah, nothing belongs to me except the plot (although I would't mind owning Reeve ), which I'm trying to move somewhere, although where I don't know. Ah well, please read and, hopefully, enjoy. _

Chapter Four

Vivienne was dead….

"_Vivienne, don't you dare walk away or you're dead, _dead_, you hear me?"_

She cried herself to sleep most nights but now…

"_Is Scarlet your real name?"_

Maybe someday soon she'd be able to dream again…

She kicked aside the blankets, welcoming the cold, never wanting to get burnt again.

Reeve looked at the reflection in the mirror.

Unfortunately, it was his.

He winced as he applied alcohol to the split lip, knowing that Genevieve would overwhelm him with her mind-numbing concern if she saw it the next day. He smiled. She was sweet, he admitted but she just lacked some inner fire, the determination to keep at something no matter what, the ability to stand up for what she believed in. She'd never suffered, that was for sure and although there were only a couply of years between them, she was a child to him.

He walked into the living room and sat in front of the fire, appreciating its warmth, chuckling as Cait Sith sprang to his feet, snarling everytime a spark landed in his dark fur.

Running a hand through his hair, Reeve considered the meeting with Scarlet. He'd been surprised but he'd had fun. She was so nice when she acted like a human being. He knew that she had suffered to, he'd heard it in her voice –

"_Don't call me Vivienne…"_

had seen in in her eyes as she'd left the restaurant the previous day. He knew that no matter how phony she acted with her victims/suitors, her passion was very real. He glanced over at the coffee table in the centre of the room where the blueprints and security tape copies lay ready for her. He'd already watched it, seen the young blonde man with the ice-cold eyes, so similar to hers. His passion was real too. The heavily-built, dark skinned man, the sweet young mechanic, the young man called Biggs, the little chubby side-kick. How could he hate these people, so fueled by belief, so filled with courage? They'd blown up his reactor, sure…they'd _killed_ but…hadn't he? Every time his machines sucked energy from the earth, wasn't he killing a being more powerful than any human? He was killing the _planet _for Holy's sake. No, he couldn't hate these young rebels…

"It's about time," snapped Scarlet as she snatched the security videos from his hands. There were dark shadows under her eyes, only slightly concealed with make-up. Reeve was not feeling too cheerful that morning either as he tried to ignore his throbbing lip and even more splitting headache, a result of too much thinking and too little sleep.

"Holy, who shoved a stick up your ass this morning?" he muttered irratibly, shocked at his own daring. Surely he wasn't supposed to insult the Higher-Ups?

_I wonder if I can still pay the mortgage on my apartment after she fires me_, he mused. He noticed that for some strange reason she was smiling at him.

"I notice that neither of us are morning people," she sighed, her smile diminishing slightly as she ran her hand through her hair, noticing for the first time that morning that she hadn't pinned it up.

_What's happening to me?_

"Well…I look through these, thank you and we'd better speak to the president at some point and see if he intends to rebuild it. By the way, why are you here so early? You should only be starting at eight in the morning. It's only six," she frowned, his more than anal work ethics bothering her slightly. He sighed.

"I'm going to the gym. I stopped here to make sure you got the videos. Anyway, wish me luck, I may not return."

Scarlet waggled her fingers slightly and strode off, hips swaying by habit. Reeve shook his head, deciding that she was more moody than a pregnant chocobo before exiting the building to go to hell, otherwise known as the Shinra Employees Health Centre.

He proceeded to enter the changing rooms and strip, avoiding any glances cast in his direction. Slipping on a white shirt he contemplated setting a match to the building. He couldn't believe that President Shinra could heavily tax the vast number of "adult fun houses" and yet sponsor a business, even "strongly encourage" employees to go there at least twice a week, that forced its clients to strip naked in front of each other in the change rooms.

He set to work, beginning with the punching bag that dangled innocently in front of him.

_Slap_

His hand swiped towards the top of the punching bag, a move that would have snapped a normal man's neck.

_Hmmm…_Heidegger's _neck…_

_Thud_

His foot sent the bag flying.

_Thud_

Bloody Heidegger and his -

_Thud_

bloody big bloody mouth and

_Thud_

_­­_bloody, _bloody _Heidegger

"You seem to have a serious grudge against that punching bag," said a voice. Reeve looked up, startled when he saw the man in front of him. A tall, lean form, dark hair, almond eyes and the stalk of a predator.

Tseng.

Reeve managed to bow slightly, obedient to protocol.

"Sir."

"Don't call me that. We're in a gym, for Holy's sake," said the Wutain man, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "That's good fighting, Mr. Secretary. Where did you learn?"

"Trained for Turks, a while back," panted Reeve, wiping a hand across his damp forehead. He saw Tseng's elegant eyebrow shoot up. "Only for a year or so. Never really made it."

"Might I ask why?" the Turk enquired. Reeve grinned slightly.

"Two reasons: A slight disdain for killing and two: Heidegger."

Tseng nodded. The larger man's distaste for Reeve was known throughout the Shinra building. "I understand. He disliked you even then?"

"From the moment I arrived, pompous bastard-"

"You are aware, of course, that you are insulting my boss?" asked Tseng, his voice dangerous. Reeve nodded, his damp, dark hair falling across his face.

"Yes, and you can tell him if you wish," he replied, his eyes glinting mischievously, already knowing the other man's reply.

"Don't worry, I don't intent to tell that arrogant shithead anything," he grinned, causing Reeve to laugh out loud, surprised at Tseng's language. Tseng laughed too, his dark aura fading a little as his smile grew. "I must be spending too much time with Reno," he continued. He glanced at his watch and decided that it was time he got his workout done too, leaving Reeve to gaze contemplatively at the punching bag, not hating it as much as he had a few minutes ago.

"As for Heidegger, the incompetent worm," he muttered, reluctantly returning to the changing rooms.

"Reeve, you looked flushed," observed Scarlet as he entered the President's office, out of breath due to sprinting through the building, knowing how late he was. He noticed that she'd done her hair, reapplied her make-up and, judging from the faint smell of alcohol that wafted towards him, tried to readjust her attitude. The smell, although not unpleasant, still made him feel sick.

_It was two in the morning and they were coming home-_

_Sitting on the staircase, clutching the rails, watching the door opening-_

_Arrogant little fuck, think you're too good for me, huh? Waiting up for your mother? Well, she's still at the whorehouse, now get me a beer!_

_Large hands dragging him down the staircase by his hair, blood running down his forehead. _

"I was worried that I'd be late," he answered, gagging slightly, raising a hand to his forehead. He _was _late, he knew, it was just that President Shinra happened to think of appointments as optional.

The door slid open and, as if on cue, the President entered, dressed in his usual red suit.

_Speak of the devil…_

The large man sat down in his chair and looked at the two individuals standing in front of him, one as bright and teasing as a flame, the other an untouchable icicle, cool and hard at first sight. In his more lucid moments he often wondered which one would destroy its opposite first.

"What's this all about then?" he asked. Reeve's back straightened as he unconsciously tried to look professional.

"We wanted to discuss the rebuilding of the destroyed Mako reactor, sir," he answered, producing a thick wad of papers that he'd prepared the previous night.

"We're not going to build it," the President's voice said just as Reeve answered, "I have some plans-"

The Secretary of Urban Development's jaw dropped open in disbelief.

"But sir-"

"Neo Midgar beckons, Reeve. I can't afford to waste money on rebuilding a reactor."

"But the entire Sector will have no power, no heating-"

"That is very unfortunate but there's nothing I can do," the President answered with a condescendingly sympathetic smile. "I'm sure they'll understand and if they don't…well…they're only a few statistics, aren't they?" his laughter sounded throughout the office, sickening Reeve. "Besides, aren't most of them dead anyway? We'll just let the rest of them die, which shouldn't take long. Problem solved."

"We aren't even going to send food down to the survivors?" cried Reeve, his dark eyes furious. "Sir…_please_, these people need help! I, they-"

"Dismissed, Mr. Mantegna, Scarlet – you can leave too. I have other business to attend to."

_Like Don Corneo's Escort Service downtown_, thought Reeve, fuming as he turned to leave. The President snapped his fingers as he looked at Scarlet.

"Scarlet, have you read the paper this morning?" he asked. The young woman shook her head, puzzled. Shinra handed his copy over to her. "You might find this interesting."

They both left the office, Reeve muttering under his breath, Scarlet scanning the front page of the Midgar Times until she came to the bold title:

**Serial Rapist Released! Court Decision – Innocent!**

Reeve stopped when he heard the scrunch of the newspaper being crumpled up and Scarlet striding quickly in front of him, white faced and silent.

He shook his head, deciding that it wasn't his business. He thought of all the people who were going to die at the hands of Shinra.

"This isn't happening," he muttered.

Scarlet looked up from the toilet in the employees bathroom with nothing left in her to throw up any more. Standing in front of the mirror, she started at her grey face, the shadows that had sprung unbidden to lie under her bright, dry eyes.

"This can't be happening," she whispered, no replies answering her desperate plea.

_AN: Well, this was, I think, my longest chapter so far. Yay! Thank you so much to all the reviewers, you've inspired me to come out of my writers block. Well, just click the little button below and see what happens _


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